


Of warmth and recklessness

by Elisexyz



Series: Demon!Harvey AU [3]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demon Harvey, Demon!Harvey, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Harvey, Hurt!Harvey, Hurt/Comfort, protective mike, protective!Mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Five times Harvey was grateful for Mike.Because there’s a reason why he keeps him around.





	Of warmth and recklessness

**Author's Note:**

> My superpowers include writing protective!Mike and hurt!Harvey even in a demon!Harvey AU. ~~But come _on_ , what’s cuter than tiny!human!Mike being protective of badass!demon!Harvey?~~  
>  You can also find me on Tumblr as [heytheredeann](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com), if you want. 

1.

 

It takes Harvey three days to crawl out of hell. Or at least, that’s what he’s been told.

Fighting his way through flames, battered souls, pissed off demonic entities who know all too well who he is, is a tiring journey that seems to take ages, instead of days. But then again, time flows differently in hell. Time doesn’t even _matter_ in a place you’re not supposed to escape from.

He has travelled through the underground, unnoticed, following the feeling of that place that he knows holds his body. He doesn’t know how many hours it took to get to the fridge holding his meatsuit, but eventually he did wake up surrounded by ice. You’d think that it’d be a good change after the hole he just climbed out of, but hell is a lot colder than humans paint it out to be.

That’s why he chose an apartment with a fireplace, and that’s why the first thing he did as soon as he got home was sitting in front of the flames, closing his eyes and breathing the heat in.

He hears his phone buzzing: it’s probably Donna. She’s the one he texted as soon as he got back into his body – Jessica always leaves his phone in his personal death-chamber, for him to find as soon as he needs to alert them that he’s back – and she’s the one who brought him a dry suit to get home into.

He doesn’t want to get up to find out what she wants from him: whatever practice he’s supposed to take care of at work can wait, or they can manage it on their own. Right now, he wants to rest.

It isn’t easy to relax, though, when you can’t sleep and your mind keeps running back to the awful place you just escaped from. Harvey feels like his corrupted mind finds that dark and tormenting thoughts suit him better than whatever could allow him to feel a bit safer, now that he _is_ out.

It’s like being still there, except he has no means to escape now, if not trying to go on with his life and let the post-hell effects wear off. They always do. In time.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he hears someone knocking on his door. At first, his mind mistakes the sound for the echo of bones cracking and souls screaming, with that vibrant voice that isn’t human anymore, that crawls under his skin.

When he finally realizes that someone is at his door, he decides not to answer. He doesn’t want to see anyone, not right now. Tomorrow he’ll be up and back to work, but now he doesn’t have the energy to pretend to be human.

But then he hears the sound of a key opening the door. He doesn’t move as Mike steps into the apartment.

“Harvey,” he breathes. Harvey doesn’t know what he was expecting to find, but him lying on an easy-chair in front of the fireplace probably isn’t it. “You’re okay,” Mike adds, with a slight smile.

His voice sounds human and nothing like the screams echoing in Harvey’s head.

“I’m just back from the dead,” he points out, lazily. So, no, not ‘ _okay’_. But he’ll be. In a little time. “What are you doing here?”

Mike hesitates for a second. “Donna said not to come, but you weren’t answering your phone and I was worried, I-” Mike pauses, biting his bottom lip. “I don’t know. I wanted to check up on you.”

Worry. It’s an emotion that Harvey is familiar with. Not because he feels it – possessiveness, jealousy, _those_ he can feel, but worry? – but because it seems that humans are always tortured by those unnerving thoughts about other people’s safety. It usually concerns the people they care about. Mike cares about him.

This isn’t news, the kid wears his heart on his sleeve and he would probably grow attached to a wendigo too if given the chance, but right now it’s- it’s good. It’s warm in a way that he finds himself craving for.

“Is there anything you need?” Mike offers, faced with his silence. “Coffee, tea? Some- Some company?”

Harvey stares at him for a couple of seconds. _Stay_ , he wants to say. He’s tired and cold and Mike’s voice is warm, his concern is warm, everything about him is beautifully _warm_.

“Some tea,” Harvey replies instead. “And I don’t care if you stay.” It’s as close to a request for some company that he’s going to allow himself.

Mike nods and takes off his jacket, heading towards the kitchen.

The kid’s smart, Harvey knows that. That’s why he isn’t surprised when Mike sits on the chair next to his, handing him the tea and not looking like he has any intention of leaving him alone.

 

 

2.

 

His hand is still holding onto the blade, even if it’s clear that all three of them are dead, that it’s over.

Still, Harvey’s muscles can’t seem to be able to relax, there’s blood all over the place, all over _him_ , and this wasn’t supposed to happen. This is a law firm, supernatural attacks don’t happen every day between these walls, especially attacks orchestrated by _demons_.

Demons talk. They know that Pearson Hardman is off-limits. That’s his place, and usually demons don’t mess with that, because killing some humans for fun is not worth the trouble of pissing off someone like Harvey.

These three probably weren’t from around here. Or were too stupid to care.

Either way, they violated Harvey’s firm, they tried to kill his co-workers, those people who somehow _enjoy_ having him around and-

Harvey turns to look at Jessica, way too composed for someone who’s just faced an attack like that, an empty bottle of holy water still in her hand, then at Donna, who’s trying to help a terrified Louis up. Harvey barely glances at the few people who didn’t run away as fast as possible as soon as they saw the danger, probably too terrified to save themselves or stupid enough to attempt to help, and he quickly realizes that after this it’ll be difficult to keep his secret contained between the partners, Donna and Mike. They’ll have to make everyone sign non-disclosure agreements or something.

“Harvey,” Mike calls. He’s standing up after being knocked against the wall, because he is an idiot and when one of the demons tried to attack Harvey from behind he decided that it’d be a great idea to _jump_ on the guy and splash on his face how little holy water he had left.

“Harvey, you okay?” Mike asks, walking towards him. He’s limping and favouring his right side, there’s blood in his mouth and he’s probably bruised all over, but he seems healthy enough.

“Fine,” Harvey replies, gripping the knife tighter. He doesn’t feel any particular attachment towards his own kind, there’s no kinship between him and the other demons, but it still feels so _wrong_. He isn’t supposed to kill his own kind, that’s not- it feels cold, like hell. It feels like he’s digging a hole deeper and deeper for his corrupted self to be buried in.

Mike smiles, all teeth and blood, and throws his arms around him. Harvey doesn’t hug him back, his arms hanging by his sides as his chin slowly settles on Mike’s shoulder. The embrace hurts where Mike unknowingly touches the burns caused by the holy water that his co-workers threw at the other demons and that splashed a bit on him too, but it’s okay. Mike’s warm. 

 

 

3.

 

“I’ll kill ‘em all,” Harvey slurs, shifting on the bed in an attempt to find a goddamn comfortable position that would make that tightness in his chest _stop_.

“They are in prison, I think that’s better,” Mike points out, leaning towards him to wipe some of the sweat away from his forehead. Which is _stupid_ , because he’s sweating everywhere and he feels like he’s about to throw up, overwhelmed by feelings of anxiety that he didn’t even _remember_ up until those bastards injected him with filthy human blood.

“Hell’s worse than prison,” Harvey grunts, and- yes, it is. Hell is much worse than prison, and Harvey _remembers_. He remembers the ice and the screams and the- all those souls crying out and _breaking_ under his hands, and that feeling of power, the freedom of not being in their place anymore. Hell’s kill or be killed. Torture, or keep being tortured. Everyone breaks, sooner or later. Harvey doesn’t even remember how long it took him to stop being human.

“You want me to fix your pillows? You look uncomfortable,” Mike suggests.

Maybe, Mike wouldn’t break. He’s just too- good. He wouldn’t. But if Harvey has any say in this, he won’t even get _close_ to hell. If he ever, for some reason Harvey can’t even make up, was to end up there, Harvey would drag him out himself.

Mike’s good and warm. He’s clean.

Another wave of nausea makes him stop breathing for a couple of seconds, as he’s reminded of how much cruelty originated from him, of how much filth there’s on his hands, his very being is corrupted and Mike- Mike shouldn’t touch it.

“Away from me,” Harvey mumbles, trying to shy away from Mike’s touch, even if his head keeps spinning and he wants him to stay _close_.

“I’m just trying to help,” Mike frowns, backing off a little and looking kinda _hurt_. Guilt twists Harvey’s stomach, and he hates it, demons don’t feel guilt, he isn’t _supposed_ to feel guilt, how can a creature so corrupted survive with a conscience?

“I don’t deserve your help,” Harvey lets out, his eyes burning both because of the fever and because of goddamn _tears_ trying to get out. He isn’t sure he remembers how to cry.

Understanding lights Mike’s face, and a slight smile twists his lips as he gets closer once again.

“So that’s what this is about?” he asks. “Harvey, just because you are a demon-”

“I did- _things_ , Mike,” Harvey interrupts, because Mike doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know who exactly he’s working for and Harvey- he did tell him that he was a demon since the very beginning, and that may have felt _fair_ at the time, but _now_ \- Mike doesn’t _understand_ , and Harvey always knew it. No one who understands how demons come to be would look at him like- like _that_.

“You don’t know who I am,” Harvey adds, and his eyes burn and burn until he can’t see and-

“Oh, come on, Harvey, _stop_ ,” Mike quickly says, his eyes wide as he wipes away the tears alongside the sweat.

“I’m sorry,” Harvey can’t help saying, because he _is_ , he is sorry for so many things, he is sorry because Mike shouldn’t be around him, he should- he deserves better. But Harvey doesn’t want him to look for someone _better_.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,” Mike replies. He stares at him silently, and Harvey feels like he’s about to cry again. “I know who you are,” Mike says, after a couple of seconds. “You are a dick most of the time, but you- you changed my life, and you are not all that bad, all things considered. You are not a bad person.”

“I’m not a _person_ ,” Harvey hisses, because that’s the _point_ , Mike sees him as something- someone- someone he isn’t. That’s why he wants to be around him. The only reason. Mike doesn’t know who he is. What he’s done.

“Alright, fine,” Mike rolls his eyes. “ _Fine_. Demon. You are a nice _demon_. Better?”

“There are no _nice_ demons,” Harvey replies. “Do you even know how demons are _born_ , Mike? You don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t- Who could care about something so- something like _me_?”

And here we go with the tears again. Harvey wants to stop, but he _can’t_ , his eyes burn and his chest is tight and breathing is _difficult_ and- Mike looks crushed. Guilt resurfaces.

“I _know_ how demons are born,” Mike says. “By- by torturing souls. In hell. What you did doesn’t wipe away the fact that you- you could go around killing humans like many demons do. You don’t. You pick up potheads from the street instead.”

Harvey blinks. Mike is smiling at him. Softly, warmly. He says he _knows_. But he doesn’t care. That’s- that can’t be right.

“You’re not supposed to care about a monster,” Harvey mutters.

“I don’t,” Mike shrugs. “I care about my friend. Who’s a smartass and sometimes has a temper problem but who’s definitely _not_ a monster.” Mike pauses, grinning slightly. There’s softness in that grin. It’s all for Harvey. “Well, _technically_ , he is, but not in a bad way.”

Harvey swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. He just wants to apologize for- for everything. He wants forgiveness. He _needs_ forgiveness. He doesn’t even know where to start to be granted it though.

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” Harvey whispers. He’s sweating, but he feels cold in an abstract way that has nothing to do with temperature. He finds himself longing for some physical contact.

“Alright,” Mike sighs. He leans towards him once again, wiping away sweat and tears. He rests his hand on Harvey’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

“How about we move to the couch?” Mike suggests, after a brief pause. “We could watch a movie.”

Harvey breathes in. “Okay.”

Mike has to help him walk, because he can barely take a step without the room spinning incredibly fast around him. Mike puts his arm around his waist to prevent him from faceplanting on the floor.

On the couch, they sit close, knee to knee. Mike turns on the TV and puts his arm around Harvey’s shoulder, gripping him gently. Harvey leans into the touch. He’s a little bit less cold now.

 

 

4.

 

Sometimes, Harvey wonders if the humans around him can feel how _different_ he is.

He watches them, young couples kissing in front of a shop, friends laughing at each other’s jokes, a young man helping an old woman on a cab, some man in a suit smiling softly as he talks on the phone… There are emotions everywhere, manifestations of all those _souls_ around him.

Harvey has no soul. Not anymore, at least. He doesn’t remember what it was like to be human: the vast range of emotions, the _happiness_. He just remembers that he was indeed human at some point, and therefore he surely felt- everything.

Sometimes, looking at a guy walking with his kid down the street, or at a couple smiling at each other, he wonders: if he could go back, would he do it again? Was it worth it, selling his soul to the devil?

 _Yes_ , is the gut reaction, the word that comes to his lips without any necessity to _think_. He remembers Marcus, and his smile as he was finally on his feet again. He remembers standing beside him at his wedding. He can even recall his own mouth twisting into a smile. He can’t recall the _feeling_ of loving his little brother, though, of wanting to save someone so badly that he run to a crossroad and decided to at least _try_ to see if the legends were true. But he knows it was there, and he knows that if someone gave him a second chance of living that life, of feeling everything, he’d probably still give it up. He knows. He just doesn’t _feel_ it.

Sometimes, Harvey looks at all the souls surrounding him and he regrets his humanity, he regrets his life, he regrets loving and being loved, he regrets the loss of _happiness_. He wishes he could remember the drive that had made him sell his soul, because then maybe he wouldn’t regret it for a second.

“Here it is,” Mike announces, a big smile on his face as he hands him his hot-dog. The kid starts talking about how amazing Harvey was in court that morning. His eyes sparkling with admiration, he looks at him as if he was the single most amazing thing he has ever seen.

With Mike it’s banter and casual touches and movie quotes, and it feels okay, it feels human. For a second, Harvey can forget what he is when he is with that brilliant kid who seems somehow convinced that he is the most incredible soul to ever walk this Earth.

 

 

5.

 

They are on their way back to the car after meeting a client when Harvey spots it. He stops dead on his tracks, grinding his teeth as he grips Mike’s arm to make him stop as well.

“What’s wrong?” Mike asks.

“Angel,” Harvey replies, his eyes focused on the apparently harmless woman about thirty feet away from them. She’s facing the other way, so maybe she hasn’t spotted him. Yet.

Harvey is hardly one to run away from a fight, but he’s also smart enough to know that fighting it out with an angel just to be able to say that he didn’t back off is- stupid. Angels are war machines, and they usually don’t hunt alone.

He turns, taking Mike with him as he tries to walk the other way as fast as possible. His pacing is blocked by another angel, staring at him without displaying any emotion.

“Goddammit,” Harvey mutters, his muscles tensing and his hand still gripping Mike’s arm firmly.

“Ow, Harvey,” Mike protests, and he loosens his grip a little bit.

“Let go of the human,” the angel says. The vessel is an Asian guy, probably in his forties, average build. Not too though to handle, weren’t it for angels’ nasty habit of smiting demons and/or stabbing them with their angel blades. Like the one Harvey could see hidden in the guy’s sleeve. “We can settle this peacefully,” the angel adds.

“Does your ‘peaceful’ solution include my survival? Because I highly doubt it,” Harvey points out. They could try to run away, maybe teleporting, but he has never tried to bring Mike with him before and if he leaves him there chances are that the angel is going to interrogate him or something, and really, he just doesn’t want to leave Mike alone with those mindless toy-soldiers.

“Let go of your prisoner,” the angel insists.

Harvey is deciding if it’s better to try to explain that Mike is anything _but_ his prisoner or to try and use him as leverage or something, but he’s beaten to it. Mike shakes off his hand and takes a step forward.

“I’m not his _prisoner_ ,” he is saying. “I am his _friend_ , and he has done nothing wrong.”

“Mike-” Harvey tries to warn, because angels may be tasked with the mission of protecting humanity, but he isn’t sure about what category they would think a human standing up for a demon belongs to.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the good guys in this?” Mike completely ignores him. He’s now standing in front of Harvey, and he sounds the angriest Harvey has ever witnessed. “What, you want to kill him just because he’s not human?”

The angel blinks. “This demon must have deceived you-”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Mike scoffs. “Heard that one before. No, I am just smart enough to understand that he has done nothing wrong and you have _no_ right to go after him.”

The angel keeps staring at Mike like he’s some sort of curious anomaly. Harvey can’t bring himself to relax, ready for an attack that might never come. That he _hopes_ never comes, because there will always be casualties in a fight between a demon and an angel, and even if Harvey doesn’t give a crap about a couple of unknown humans passing by, Mike is on the line of fire. Not to mention that the kid is stupid enough to try to _fight_ right next to him.

“Why are you protecting him?” the angel asks. There’s confusion on his face. Kudos to Mike for making the suck-up show _emotion_.

“Because he’s my _friend_ ,” Mike insists. “If you want to kill him, you’ll have to go through me first. And I believe you have a no-killing-humans policy.”

“Mike,” Harvey hisses, because _who knows_ how high that policy is in the angels’ priorities, compared to getting rid of a demon who could kill _a lot_ of humans on a whim.

“We do take into account that human casualties may happen,” the angel points out, without any inclination in his voice.

“That’s it,” Harvey hisses, gripping Mike’s arm again and making him turn towards him. “Go,” he orders. He can try to fight them. He may even win. Might. Probably not. But what does it matter, after all? It’s better than keeping watching Mike play with fire.

“No,” Mike insists, plating his feet on the ground. “I’m not giving you up like that.”

Mike’s now staring at the angel again, and Harvey wants to scream. He contemplates just _throwing_ him away, but he’d have to be careful not to kill him in the process, and demons _are_ designed to _destroy_. Also, chances are that if Mike weren’t too injured to move he’d run back there.

Goddamn stupid kid.

“Leave us alone,” Mike says. Harvey hasn’t let go of his arm, and he wants to fucking _rip it off_. Stupid, stupid kid.

The angel stares at them silently, titling his head. “What’s your name?” he finally asks.

“Mike Ross,” Mike replies. There’s no fear in his voice, because he is a reckless idiotic moron.

The angel nods. “You are one weird human, Mike Ross,” he comments. “My name is Arariel. I’ll let you go this time. I hope we’ll meet again soon.”

Then, with a gesture to someone behind their backs, he is gone with a flutter.

Harvey breathes in some air, staring at the spot where the angel was standing a second ago, his hand still gripping Mike’s arm.

“Well, that was close,” Mike chuckles nervously.

Harvey feels his stomach burning and he barely holds back a scream. His eyes turn black as he hisses: “Don’t you _ever_ do that again.”

Mike leans back slightly, but Harvey hasn’t let go of him. “Harvey, calm down,” he says. “It went well.”

“They could have _killed_ you,” Harvey replies. “ _I_ might kill you right now.”

“I am human, angels don’t kill humans,” Mike shrugs.

“Angels don’t give a crap about human _contingencies_ though,” Harvey growls, and thinking back to how Mike has just exposed himself without a thought- he wants to kill him with his bare hands.

“What was I supposed to do?” Mike replies, raising his voice a little and trying to stare him down. “Leave you to be killed? Just like that?”

“I can handle myself.”

“Against humans, or demons maybe, not _angels_ ,” Mike points out. “You _might_ survive a fight with an angel, but I’m _not_ going to take the risk.”

“And what good would it have done to get yourself killed first?” Harvey replies, grinding his teeth.

“You’re hurting me,” Mike gestures to Harvey’s hand still gripping his arm. He loosens the grip a little. “And I don’t know, at least I wouldn’t have had to watch? At least I would have _tried?”_

Harvey grunts in frustration, because trust Mike to rely on an idiotic reasoning like _that_ one. “You are an idiot,” he remarks.

“Who just saved your life,” Mike grins.

Harvey sighs. “Next time, I’m throwing you to the other side of the road, I don’t care if I break your neck.”

“I hope there won’t be a next time,” Mike replies. “Can we go now? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” Harvey mutters, finally letting go of Mike’s arm as they start walking again. Mike just saved his life, almost getting killed in the process. Harvey shouldn’t think about that, because he’s afraid he might snap the idiot’s neck for almost making him watch his death. Which would be stupid and counter-productive.

At the same time, he _can’t_ help thinking about it. Mike is fiercely loyal, Harvey already knew that. But after this, he’s afraid they’ve left simple loyalty behind a couple of near-death experiences ago. This is- _Stupidity_ , his mind supplies. _Plain, annoying stupidity_.

“Nice job not caring, by the way,” Mike remarks, as they are getting into the car.

Harvey glares at him.


End file.
